


When The Dam Breaks

by undeads (poetanarchy)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Intercourse, h/c, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:17:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetanarchy/pseuds/undeads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek deal with the fear of unknown dangers and uncertain futures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Dam Breaks

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over the span of a couple months. I don't have a beta but I did try and edit it adequately myself. Please feel free to advise me of anything that should be corrected. It's also been so long since I've written fanfiction and so I'm a little rusty. Hopefully this is just the first of many stories to be shared.

It had been going on for a while. The playful banter between Derek and Stiles had shifted into something physical. Derek had lost control, shoved Stiles against a wall. Heated kisses and frantic rutting had ensued and from then on there was something more they had uncovered. The chemistry had been there from the first moment but it had seemed to take ages before it had manifested this way.

After Derek had nearly died and before he disappeared, Stiles had managed to fenangle his way into a weekend at Derek's place. Derek had hinted that he was going away for an extended period of time but neither of them had wanted to talk about it and so it remained unspoken, unaddressed and dogging them on the outskirts of their thoughts. 

Stiles wasn't usually the avoidant type. He would attack an issue head on but the impending absence of his, well his boyfriend, was something he left alone. It wasn't going to be any help to them to talk it out -- it was decided, necessary. All Stiles wanted to think about was spending this weekend with Derek, uninterrupted and content. 

That's exactly how their first night had been spent. They'd had take out and made love until they fell asleep, Stiles happy in Derek's arms and Derek content surrounded by his young lover's scent.

"What kind of rock have you lived under that you've never seen Rocky Horror?" Stiles sighed dramatically as he waved the DVD case in front of Derek’s face. He was about to go on a tirade of about how amazing it was and the cultural influence it had had and continue on but the dark look Derek gave him made him stop. “Oh. Right,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “That werewolf rock where you didn’t get to do anything cool and normal.”

“Stiles, shut up,” Derek said darkly, his voice was thick and sharp and even though Stiles didn’t have super sensitive werewolf senses he had common sense and people sense; he knew that he shouldn’t be pressing Derek’s buttons tonight. 

It was hard though. Not in the sense that he wanted to piss Derek off but he just wanted his calm and collected self to be a little more open. Derek hadn’t been gone for any long length of time since he and Stiles had started this whole secret dating thing and the fact that Derek wouldn’t get a damn cell phone was a thorn in Stiles’ side. How were they supposed to keep in contact at all while he was gone? Were they just going to fall apart?

As open as Stiles could be, voicing his insecurities was something he wasn’t prepared for. He knew their feelings went pretty deep but he didn’t know how Derek would react to him being open and a bit needy. After all, Derek seemed to like that he was a dude with dude reactions to things and not girly in the least. So if he got too emotional… would that ruin it? He just wanted to see that Derek cared about this absence too. Yeah, they were both ignoring it but Stiles felt like he was at least showing his need for Derek in his life. 

But Stiles was just a regular human. Why would Derek need him? _He wouldn’t_ , Stiles’ inner voice returned and Stiles could feel his own expression getting darker. So instead of being honest and up front like he was with everyone else he was trying to pick a fight. What a fucking girly thing to do. He felt like he’d seen girls do that to their boyfriends all the time when they weren’t getting what they wanted. It wasn’t his style, not usually but sometimes he just got a little crazy when it came to Derek. He just loved that stupid wolf so much he wanted to punch him sometimes. 

“Hey… what’s up?” Derek questioned, drawing Stiles out of the back and forth that had been going on in his head. 

“Nothing.” The answer was petulant and Stiles tossed the DVD case onto the small table in front of the couch, flopping back onto the cushions with his arms crossed over his chest. “Actually, you know what’s wrong? You’re fucking leaving me and you don’t even have a goddamn phone. How am I going to know if you’re okay or if you get yourself killed because you’re fucking stupid?” Stiles talked big a lot but he didn’t usually cuss _at_ people. 

After the outburst, quiet reigned in the room for a long time. It felt like an eternity. Stiles was about to break it; the lack of riling up Derek making him quickly regret the outburst even if it was how he felt. Keeping it all bottled up -- the fear, the worry -- was best for both of them. Stuffing all those feelings back down into a bottle and throwing it away would be so much easier than leaving it hanging there between them. If it wasn’t acknowledged then it wasn’t real. Maybe that was a better way to handle everything that was going on in Beacon Hills, between them.

Avoidance didn’t come naturally to Stiles but one couldn’t ask for a better teacher than Derek Hale.

"Nothing's going to happen to me. Do you think I'd actually use a phone even if I got one?" Derek said, alternating between wanting to comfort and wanting to reason with Stiles. "Keeping a cell on me could make things more dangerous." There were so many things that could go wrong from carrying a phone on him. It could ring or vibrate at just the right time -- someone could look through it and see who Derek communicated with the most and then they’d know. They’d know that Stiles was the most important person in his life and that would give their enemies more ammunition to use against him.

Derek couldn’t afford to give Stiles a simple luxury for that reason. They both knew it. Somewhere deep down, Stiles knew that Derek would have if it was at all feasible that it couldn’t backfire on them. But it could and with their luck -- it likely would.

Even knowing all the logical reasons why it was best that Derek didn’t, Stiles still struggled not to snap at him. The calm reply had been the opposite of what he expected. Stiles was usually the one to be reasonable, not the other way around. He swallowed hard, trying to swallow away the feeling of dread that made his throat close. He shouldn’t be so worried but there was that feeling thrumming all through him that something was _wrong_. 

Bad things were going to happen.

It wasn’t so much a fear as a sense of impending reality. Nightmares come to life. 

_What if you die?_ It was on the tip of Stiles’ tongue but he forced it down, choked back the primal fear of losing one’s other half. He couldn’t be that weak -- couldn’t give Derek more to worry about than he already had. Instead he shook his head. The words still were on the tip of his tongue so Stiles decided to silence them in the best way he could think of, kissing Derek. His hand moved to the back of his boyfriend’s neck, pulling him to kiss him. 

The kiss was hungry, deep and needy. There was no build up but simply a rush of passion like a dam had broken and the water breaking free, starting with a flood and not a trickle. Stiles straddled Derek’s lap, his hand still gripping hard on the back of his lover’s neck. It wasn’t often that Stiles was the aggressor, the instigator, given that Derek was older and a werewolf for that matter -- it usually was a moot point who started but all the same it was usually Derek.

Lips and teeth clashed in an open-mouthed kiss and in the impassioned lip lock Stiles wasn’t sure where he ended and Derek began. With ease, Derek discarded Stiles’ shirt without breaking their kiss -- later Stiles would be annoyed that Derek has ruined yet _another_ one of his favorite t-shirts; he really should stop wearing them for their date nights. 

Carelessly Derek stripped them both, grabbing hold of Stiles’ ass and lifting the younger man’s body with him as he stood. Stiles’ instinctively wrapped his legs around his waist, enjoying the strength of Derek and the way his muscles tensed and bulged as the other walked them through the loft to Derek’s bed. Derek dropped Stiles but he was quick to follow, hovering over him, barely holding back the feral change in his features. His claws had receded from earlier use of ripping clothes away but the threat that they’d come out in the heat of their passion, clawing his lover was a worry that stayed in both their minds. A scratch -- after all -- was a dangerous thing when it came to werewolves. 

“Stiles,” Derek growled, his hips rutting against Stiles, and with their clothing already discarded their hard cocks slid against one another as his hips moved. The passion and arousal always came so quickly. Sometimes, Stiles liked to draw out their time though, foreplay or just letting Derek fuck him for hours and hours on end. There was nothing better than when their bodies were joined as one. But this wasn’t one of those times. Derek needed him and Stiles -- god -- Stiles needed Derek. And Stiles knew what the growl meant. 

Quickly, Stiles reached for the lube that was off to the side as usual. He covered his own fingers, reaching down to grip Derek’s pulsing length. His cock wasn’t that big but it was still far bigger than most of the ones that Stiles’ had managed to sneak glances of in the locker room -- though, at that time he had been comparing them to his own. He was just average but he had no complaints and neither did Derek. In any case, it wasn’t unusual that either of them would be too impatient to properly prepare Stiles and so Stiles always made sure he was prepared before he came over -- stretched and ready to take Derek at a moment’s noticed if needed. A few painful lacrosse practices had taught him the lesson of always be prepared. 

Another quiet growl came from Derek as his length was stroked and coated liberally with lube. “Okay,” Stiles finally said, pulling his hand away from the hard cock, his hand, sticky with the lube, came to Derek’s hip, pulling him forward in invitation. The silent gesture was just as potent as the assenting word and it took only moments before Derek’s length pressed against Stiles’ ring of muscle, pressing forward against the resistance until he was sinking deep into his lover. Another growl, more gutteral, the growl of a wolf claiming his mate, making love to them. Stiles’ was often sure that he wouldn’t need anything but the sound of Derek’s growls to get off. 

But he didn’t really need to test that theory, Derek’s hips jerked against his own, snapping forward and backward fucking hard into the barely prepared passage. It burned but Stiles didn’t care. He welcomed the pain and the soreness he knew would come the following days. His legs wrapped around Derek, head pressing back into the pillow, baring his throat in animalistic submission as he knew Derek so often loved indulging in. “Derek,” he moaned, arching his hips and trying to shift the angle to just the right way. 

Even in the heat of their joined bodies, Derek was still aware, he resisted the urge to bury fangs into that bared throat, wanting to claim Stiles in every way, make him the same as himself -- they’d discussed it… Stiles turned it down every time it was brought up. With every strength of his will, Derek kept his fangs from dropping, using on his human teeth to bite Stiles’ neck, sucking hard as he left a deep mark that would stay a dark purple for a good time from now. The squirming of the young body beneath his was hint enough and he jerked Stiles’ hips up, changing the angle his cock pistoned into him so that almost each time he was stimulating his prostate, sending tidal waves of pleasure over Stiles with each thrust.

Watching Stiles drown in pleasure was almost too much for Derek and soon enough he felt himself getting closer. It drove him to thrust harder, abusing his lover’s passage and the bundle of nerves almost to the point of overstimulation. He clung to his self control, wanting to watch Stiles come first, with nothing but the feeling of his cock pounding him, their bodies one. It didn’t take long. Derek knew exactly how to get Stiles off and soon enough the younger was coming over their torsos, crying out Derek’s name the way he craved. 

“Fuck, Stiles, I love you,” Derek growled, feeling the muscles spasming around him and the pleasure intensified, and soon he was drowning with his lover, his seed spilling deep inside his lover as he thrust erratically through the aftermath of their orgasm. “Stiles,” he muttered, his lips were soft now as the kissed over his neck and throat, licking over the mark that was surely sore. Bites were always painful and he knew he’d been particularly rough.

In that moment, neither of them thought about what could happen. There was nothing but the sweat and smell of sex, the words of love lingering in the ear and Derek didn’t even think about the fact that Stiles hadn’t said them back. All there was, was post-coital bliss, their bodies locked together as they came down from the high. 

There would be no more talk of fears or death. There would be only passion until they had to part.

**Author's Note:**

> Planning on continuing this story in a companion fiction. Please keep an eye out!


End file.
